


What I Want

by Silverilly



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Come Inflation, Face-Fucking, Fluffy Ending, Mild Kink, Other, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Reunion Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 11:32:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15818031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverilly/pseuds/Silverilly
Summary: After two months separated from each other, you and Zavala are ready to tear each other's clothes off—but are you really as good as he remembers you to be?





	What I Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Degari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Degari/gifts).



 

The door is barely closed before Zavala’s lips are on yours, pressing into you as if he has been starved of you for weeks—and he has. With him away, you’ve spent the past two months in misery, waiting and wondering, busying yourself as best as you can with idle thoughts and fervent fingers. Every night, you’ve dreamed of this moment, the memory of his body enough to send yours over the edge—but memories are nothing compared to this. Now that he’s here, you want to keep him here forever.

Naturally, when he breaks the kiss, you can’t supress your whine. He laughs. “God, I’ve missed you.” His thumb grazes your lower lip, sending a flutter through your belly. “You have the best mouth in the solar system.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” you somehow manage to say. Forming sentences is difficult when he’s touching you like this. Your breath scatters, trembles over whatever words your mind is trying to develop—and words, of course, are impossible to form in the first place. Your mind can only think of here, and now, and oh, yes, and God, that feels good, and please don't stop, and never let go. With all that happening, it's a miracle that you've managed to utter an entire sentence. He, on the other hand, is perfectly, deliciously articulate.

“I crave you.” His baritone voice is gravelly with desire. He presses kisses down your neck, pausing to scatter praise across your skin. “You are so sexy. I thought about you every day I was gone—thought about everything I’d do with these…” He presses his hands to your hips, “…and these…” He moves to fondle your breasts, “…and this.”

His hand slides between your legs and you feel fire blossom through your face, travelling down your chest and neck and belly and deep into your abdomen. Every word is like a drop of water in the desert, simultaneously nourishing you and leaving you desperate for more. Your body falls into a moan, as much a product of his words as his touch. You need more.

“Are you as excited as I am?” he asks.

His question makes you freeze, and for a moment you can’t understand why. Of course you’re excited. You’re _thrilled_ that he’s here; every inch of you is desperate to tear his clothes off. And yet…

_What if you’re not as good as he remembers?_

It’s an annoying thought, but once it’s in your head, it won’t go away. It’s been so long, after all; your excitement, your desire, all of it is tempered by a very real and unsexy fear, and you know it must show all over your face. Indeed, he stops kissing you, clearly having noticed your sudden hesitance, and he peers down into your eyes. His gaze is so tender, so careful, that it almost hurts.

“What’s wrong?” Zavala speaks softly, gently. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. It’s embarrassing enough to be in this predicament; actually _explaining_ it is so much worse. After all, how can you say aloud that you’re worried you won’t be enough for him? It’s been so long, and the anticipation has certainly been building. You can only assume he’s as eager as you are for this—but has the distance built up something better than you in his head? What if his remembering of you is better than the reality? You couldn’t bear disappointing him.

“I…” You had hoped that if you spoke, you’d be able to come up with some more words. It’s not the case. Zavala frowns.

“Do you want this?”

You answer with your lips, pressing them to his once more. Of _course_ you want this. You want this more than anything. You’re just… nervous. A body like his was designed only for the greatest of pleasures—and he is a person of extraordinary pleasure. You, on the other hand, might have forgotten completely how to give that to him. As foolish as the thought is, it strikes you again: You won’t be good enough.

You crush the thoughts down by removing first your shirt, and then your bra. The moment you’re topless, though, Zavala pauses. For a moment, you think he’s seen enough—that he’s going to leave—but his words easily reassure you: “Wow. You are even more beautiful than I remembered.”

He leans into you, guiding you down to the bed without breaking your embrace. His chest is warm against yours, but so much harder, so much stronger. As your back finds the mattress, he remains pressed against you, pinning you down.

Your heart races as you relish the weight of him. His body is warm and comforting, but it’s hard, so hard—and inescapable. With his closeness, your words come: “I hope it’s good enough.”

He pauses, kind eyes searching your face until he comes to a decision. “It will be.”

Zavala moves against you, one hand keeping you restrained as the other roams over your form. It’s a firm exploration, him massaging your shoulders and arms, kneading your breasts. You sink into it, gasping under the pressure of his hand. “Ahh…”

“You like that.” As you nod to his non-question, his grip tightens, thumb grazing over your nipple. Then, he releases you, turning his attention to your other breasts. “Good. These are remarkable, you know. Every night, I’ve dreamed about your body. I want to taste it.”

True to his word, he leans down, taking a nipple into his open mouth. As he nearly bruises your chest with fervent kisses, both of his hands move to your hips. Instinctively, you find yourself pushing your hips up to meet his, feeling his solid arousal against you. You know he can feel your excitement, too.

“You’re so good at that,” he says with a chuckle, his lips and teeth brushing over the curve of your breast. “I love when you let me know what you want.” He meets your hips with his, pushing you back down with sheer strength. “There were times when all I could think about was the sound of your voice, just saying my name…” At that, he grinds roughly against you, the friction making you cry out.

“Zavala,” you say coyly, as if you hadn’t just nearly orgasmed on the spot. He responds with something that should be a laugh, but that is far too sensual to be one. It isn’t long before both of you are completely naked, and once you are, he pins you down again.

Time slows for a moment. There’s an eternity here, a space where only you can be, inside his eyes. His strong, loving, _earnest_ gaze seems to delve through to your soul. You want to become one with him—something more than person.

“I want you inside me,” you breathe, and, with the calmest of smiles, he eases into your body.

You close your eyes and feel yourself fill with him, your folds spreading to blossom around his cock, your legs twitching against his powerful thighs. You can feel your mouth falling open in a silent gasp, and you instinctively clench against his sinewy back.

“Is this all right?” he asks. You open your eyes dazedly, locking back into his gaze.

“Yes. _More_.”

He responds eagerly, clearly barely able to contain himself as he pulls back and then into you again, testing the capacity of your body. You purr into him, encouraging him to take you. Gradually, gradually, his body finds a rhythm in polyphony with you, his hips millimeters from yours. You lift your head to look at him, to watch him. To listen.

“ _Fuck_. You’re… ugh.” He grunts into you, seeming to lose his train of thought as you open your legs wider, welcoming him inside. “You’re so incredible at this. You make me feel… _amazing._ ” The word comes out as a groan. “Good… good job.” He breathes deeply beside your ear, and you let yourself relax into the sheer pleasure of his praise. “What I wouldn’t do to always have you like this.” You rise to him, breasts heaving in your shallowed breaths. “If I could just spend every day having you, fucking you. I just want to _see_ you.” He lowers his finger, touches your lips, parts them. “Just… like… this.”

Lengthening his thrusts, Zavala pushes the whole of his cock deep inside you, moving faster and faster. As he gains speed, he pulls his finger from your mouth, letting his hand trail down to your neck. His grasp seems enormous, easily covering your throat. He moves to pull it somewhere else, but you take his wrist. He meets your gaze—and, reading it, understands. The hand stays on your neck.

With every stroke, Zavala is careful, but it’s clear that the more he has of you, the more his instincts want to take over. He can’t help becoming rougher with you—especially given your more than enthusiastic response. His hips graze against yours, and he uses his free hand to drag you toward him, deepening the angle. As he does so, his movements become faster still, harder, and his enthusiasm is mirrored in the hand at your throat. That hand presses rhythmically against you, squeezing ever so gently, just enough to feed into the dizzying breathlessness that overtakes you every time he speaks. Every little squeeze sends a pulse through your throat and a matching one between your legs.

Zavala’s carnality is not only evident in his lower body. As his hips clash against yours—as he fills you completely—the pressure along the sides of your neck intensifies in strength and in duration. You graze your fingernails along is arm to let him know that he's reached the perfect point, and he responds with yet another fierce kiss.

By now, you are wrapped up in him, lost completely to his aggressive control. Now, you exist to be carried away through the ride. He reaches an inhuman pace, guiding you, fucking you, taking you wholly and completely until with a rough cry he finds his climax. As he cums, he lets go of your neck completely, slamming his hand beside your shoulder. The sudden freedom sends you over the edge as well, your entire body cascading in its release. You find your ecstasy together, rising and falling until at last you are done, his body rolling off yours in a flumph.

As you gaze down at your body, you notice a slight swell to your pelvis, rounding your belly. You realize just how full you feel, his cum pushing your body wider until you’re sure you must burst. Your gaze moves to him, meeting his smile. It sends a nearly painful shudder of pleasure through your overflowing body. The aftershocks take some time to ebb away, and when you’re all well and exhausted, you lay your head on his chest. He holds you close as he speaks.

“That was amazing. You are amazing.” Although his voice is soft now, lazy with the effects of what you have just done, his words are earnest as ever. “You are so good at that—so good for me. You know that? It's bad enough that you're drop-dead gorgeous, but you're also the best I've ever had. Every single night, I would think about that—I would think about you, and all the things I would do to you...”

With his words, you notice his arousal beginning to return. He’s getting as much pleasure out of praising you as you are, but you can think of a better way to return the favour. You _really_ want to return the favour.

You look up at him, giving him a smile that you hope belies a sexy sort of mischief. Then, you press your lips against the tattoo that stretches across his neck, kissing along the ink down to his shoulders. Once you have reached his chest, you murmur to him: “Stand up, please.”

He does ask you’ve asked, and you follow him from the bed. As he stands, you kneel before him, eagerly taking in the sight of his impressive length.

Zavala grins. “Haven't you had enough?”

“Never,” you reply, and you bring your lips to his cock. Already, you are desperate to fill your mouth with him—to have him deep inside you again—but you try to hold back, if only to prevent burnout. You run your tongue teasingly down his shaft, moving to the head in a playful swirl that makes him twitch. His cock is bitter from his cum, but sweetened with something else. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you realize you are tasting yourself on him, the combination of both of you. The warmth deepens as Zavala lets out a low moan.

“That's it,” he groans. “That’s exactly what I want. Good job.”

Encouraged, you let your mouth close around the tip of his shaft. Already, he is as hard as he’d been while riding you mercilessly. You don't doubt his aggressiveness is about to make a return. As you suck him slightly deeper into your mouth, he moves a hand to the back of your head. It's warm, strong, masculine. You close your eyes, relishing the feel of him against you, and pull back again. When you return, you take him deeper.

“You're incredible,” Zavala sighs. “More.”

And you give him more. You bring his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth, sucking harder and harder, only occasionally pulling out to drag your tongue along his shaft. His sweet, guttural noises are decadent; you want to feast on them, nourish yourself completely with the way he cries out, the way he lavishes your name. This pushes you forth, your mouth acting as hungrily as your heart, and he responds just as enthusiastically, bringing a second hand to the back of your head. As you take him deeper, he begins to press against your skull, pushing his cock deeper into your throat. Your breath shallows again, air blocked by his impressive girth, but he's gentle. You tighten your mouth, sucking hard to let him know that he doesn't need to be.

His grip on your head tightens, fingers curling into your hair as if you’re a ledge he needs to climb to survive. His thick cock, already deep in your mouth, thrusts forward, tickling your tonsils. You swallow, pulling him even deeper to quell a gag, and just as soon as his cock is fully inside you, it’s out again. You gasp for breath, having almost suffocated from his girth, but you barely have time as he pushes into you again—and again, and again, first moving just his hips, then his hands. He shifts from slow to fast before you know it, pounding you, fucking your mouth, using you wholly and harshly until finally, with a loud cry, he climaxes down your throat. His meaty hands push your head against his pelvis, keeping you there for the entirety of his orgasm. You swallow it all, gulping it down as your lungs beg for air, relishing and becoming agonized by how long his climax extends. It feels like you’re entirely filled with his cum—from all angles.

Just as you’ve convinced yourself he’ll never stop, he pulls himself from you forcefully, the last of his cum splattering past your lips and onto your cheek. His bitter flavour coats your tongue, but you pay no mind, gasping for much-needed breath. Panting, you lean your hands onto your thighs, hanging your head. You just… need a moment.

When you’ve finally caught your breath, you feel his hand under your chin. Lightly, he directs your head upward, until your gaze is in line with his. He murmurs your name. “Are you all right?”

Of course, you nod emphatically. You are, without a doubt, far more than all right. “Was, er, that good?”

He chuckles and bends to sit on the floor, pulling you to lay with your head in his lap. “You have been a marvel today. Even better than I remembered it.” His fingers are light against your cheek.

Nestled against him, you feel exhaustion creep into your bones, warm as his words. It occurs to you that this has been a considerably intense experience, and right about now you could do with—

“A bath?” As usual, he reads your mind. Your muscles may be weary, but he can still make you smile.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you want to learn more about me and my writing, please visit my Tumblr page (username: allyitis).


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